How They Should Have Ended: Sherlockian Fairy Tales
by Belldere
Summary: Sherlock and John find themselves living through popular Fairy Tales so they do what every sensible person would do... forget everything they know and be themselves, because that's bound to work out just fine... Rated T for some curse words. Chapter Seven: The Little Matchstick Girl... sort of
1. Rapunzel

**Rapunzel**

John awoke in his tower, glorious golden tresses pooling around his body, miraculously unknotted.

He combed his hair out of his eyes in confusion as he gazed around the cluttered room and suddenly realised how much he wanted to leave.

Right then. He was putting a stop to this nonsense.

John stood, attempting not to step on his ridiculously long hair before making his way around the circular tower that he had woken up in. At the far end of the tower there was a singular window with a delicate hook and pulley system.

"Righto" he said, beginning to gather his golden tresses in his arms before haphazardly tossing it out the window.

Just as he thought, there was more than enough hair to reach the bottom, no trouble. He picked up a pair of golden nail scissors, examining them critically before he began to hack off huge chunks of his hair, spitting and cursing the whole way through.

He tied the cut hair to the hook before searching the house for provisions. He collected everything up in a satchel before tossing it out the window.

"Good thing I found bubble wrap" he murmured cheerfully as the bag hit the ground with a crash and a pop. He ducked back inside quickly to grab a hat before returning to the window.

John glanced behind him once more, not regretting at all anything he had just done before climbing down the hair, scooping up his bag and setting off into the forest.

"Well that was easy" he scoffed.

"More entertaining I'd say" Sherlock interjected from where he was leaning invisibly against a nearby tree, causing John to turn towards his smug friend.

"Really Sherlock?" John asked irritably "it never occurred to you to help me out maybe?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment "no."

"Bloody Princes" John muttered mutinously, hefting his bag higher up onto his shoulder "well come on, I'm hungry and I'm pretty sure some sort of cackling stepmother is about to make an appearance."

"Really John? You're frightened of an old woman? Actually with the way this ridiculous story is going it'd probably be Mrs Hudson" Sherlock scoffed.

John rolled his eyes "yeah, yeah, just be happy you're not blind right now."

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**A/N: Hey there and thanks for clicking! I've seen a lot of Sherlock-y fairy tales lately and so I decided to write a few where the characters are pretty aware of what's going on in the stories instead of them reliving the fairy tales in some way. This is absolutely not a shot at anyone who does write Sherlockian Fairy Tales, just how I would imagine the characters might act if they suddenly found themselves in this situation.**


	2. Little Red Riding Hood

**Little Red Riding Hood**

Sherlock had barely woken up from his post case coma when Mycroft had shoved a basket of food into his arms, through a long red cape-thing around him and shoved him unceremoniously out the door in an attempt to make him visit Mummy.

Sherlock scowled, though was genuinely surprised to find none of the cakes missing, and ripped the ridiculous cape off while turning to John's house instead of the opposite direction of his mother's.

John was chopping wood in his front yard, hefting a large axe over and over again, sweat pouring off his bare back.

How tedious.

"Now Sherlock!" he heard Mycroft yell, as, it appeared, did John who looked up from his labours and began to make his way over to Sherlock.

"What does his Majesty want?" he asked wearily.

Sherlock sneered towards the house "My idiot brother is trying to force me to visit Mummy."

John raised his eyebrow "the house through the woods?" Sherlock nodded and John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're not going alone. Knowing you you'll get distracted by bees or something or eaten by a wolf." John slung his axe over his shoulder and headed towards the woods, a reluctant Sherlock in tow.

One car chase, six hedgehogs and an avocado later, the woods had one less wolf and one extra shallow grave… it was empty but John had time on his hands and Sherlock was being irritating.

Unfortunately this also meant Sherlock had gained one carcass.

Mycroft no longer gets into the bathtub without checking the bottom of it first.

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who favourite, followed or reviewed, you're all legends in your own lunchtimes. I must warn you the next two chapters are very short but it's all in the name of comedy... or at least I think it's funny... hopefully... thanks!**


	3. Hansel & Gretel and Jack & the Beanstalk

**A/N: These were both extremely short so I just decided to throw them in the same chapter, enjoy!**

**Hansel and Gretel**

"You burnt down the witch's house? It was made of food Sherlock!"

"It was for science John… and she was going to cook and eat you."

"Right… I suppose that's ok then."

**Jack and the Beanstalk**

Sherlock had only sold the cow for beans to annoy Mycroft, it worked but now there was a massive beanstalk curling its way towards the sky.

Could he really be bothered climbing a ridiculous beanstalk?

Nope.

Sherlock turned on his heel to go complain about how bored he was inside.


	4. Sleeping Beauty

**Sleeping Beauty**

John scaled the wall of the castle, hauling himself through the thorn rimmed window at the very bloody top of the highest bloody tower in the middle of the biggest bloody castle he'd ever seen in his life.

Compared to this, fighting off the weirdly fabulous Moriarty dragon had been surprisingly easy.

John sat there panting for a moment before hauling himself to his feet.

This was the moment he had been waiting for; just behind the curtains of that four poster bed would be the most beautiful girl in the world. He hoped she'd be smart, artistic maybe, hopefully a little odd, like him.

John steeled himself to move closer, extending his arm to push aside the curtains so he could meet the love of his life.

He yanked the curtain aside and glanced down eagerly at his princess's face.

"Oh _hell_ no."

Sherlock lay sprawled over the bed, drooling slightly, inexplicably sporting a fetching mauve dress.

John reached out and roughly shook Sherlock "get up Sherlock, I am _not_ kissing you, you twit." Sherlock still would not stir so, sighing, John kissed his hand then slapped the other man across the face.

"…B-bor…"

"…What?"

Sherlock moaned "Booooooreeed!"

John rolled his eyes "Oh for God's sake, Sherlock get up."

Sherlock shook himself before opening his eyes lazily. A pause hung in the air before Sherlock finally asked, "John, why am I wearing a dress?"

"Moriarty probably thought it'd be funny" John snorted, he hated to say it but Moriarty was right.

Sherlock did not miss the barely concealed laughter, he crossed his arms haughtily and said "If you must know it is extremely liberating."

"You'd make a horrible cross-dresser Sherlock" John sighed before looking around himself seriously. "Well, come on _Princess_ we need to figure out how to get the hell out of here before either of us go insane… or more so than usual."


	5. The Little Mermaid

**The Little Mermaid**

Sherlock swam boredly around wherever the hell he pleased, Mycroft be damned.

He broke the surface of the water just as a boat, with a significantly familiar person leaning against the railing, began to sail by.

Sherlock squinted up at the blonde before hollering, "Oi John! I'm about to go sell my tongue to get legs, you're going to have to pretend to be in love with me so I can keep them."

John started then looked around until he spotted Sherlock among the waves "What? No! Sherlock stop being an idiot, you're not selling your tongue."

"But it's so dull down there!" Sherlock groaned immaturely.

Unfortunately John didn't feel like putting up with Sherlock's moaning at the moment, he may have briefly daydreamed about Sherlock lacking the ability to speak, but he quickly realising it would probably make the man even more irritating. "Deal with it."

Sherlock threw his head back and yelled "Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooreeeeeeeeeeed!" 

John groaned "Fine, whatever. But you realise if this doesn't work you're literally going to turn into foam? Oh and, by the way, we're stopping this façade as soon as the old hag lets you keep your feet."

"Actually I think its Irene." Sherlock mused.

John rolled his eyes, half exasperated, half amused "Perfect, go flirt her pants off, and just get the legs for free, easy."

Sherlock turned up his nose "Don't be foolish John, she doesn't have any legs let alone pants. Sometimes I wonder about your distinct lack of intellect."

"It's probably the lack of gills." John deadpanned. "Now hurry up I'm taking the boat back in soon so haul ass, I am not going to listen to you complain about sand for the time it takes from you washing up on the beach to finding you a shower." John dismissed him with a wave.

Sherlock bobbed "Fine. I'll be back." And with that he dipped under the water, disappearing…

Only to reappear seconds later, "Oh and we may have to get married, just letting you know."

He had long since reached Irene's place before John stopped shouting.


	6. Aladdin and Goldilocks

**A/N: Another short double up chapter. Enjoy!**

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**Aladdin**

"Sherlock why are you Jafar?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about… but I must say the state of your wardrobe has gotten impossibly worse, and I fail to see why you are being followed by a monkey, or why Molly is playing with a tiger."

"…Well she did always love cats."

**Goldilocks**

John looked up at the tiny cottage obviously belonging to somebody, by the looks of it they were bears.

Literal, actual, maul your face off, bears.

Like hell he was going in there even if it was for a case.

John smirked, picturing Sherlock's face when he told him he'd refused to break into a house full of bears.

Then again that idiot would probably just do it himself later and get himself killed, or worse, he'd bitch about it until John got irritated enough that he'd rather risk his own life than listen to it anymore.

John sighed and turned to go back inside.

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**A/N: I am reaching the end of my pre-written chapters so if anyone has any requests I'd be happy to consider them. Mainstream would be preferable though considering my exams are coming up and I won't have much time for reading.**


	7. The Little Matchstick Girl

**A/N: So this kind of went in an odd direction... but I like it so I hope you will too.**

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**The Little Matchstick Girl**

Twas the night before Christmas,

And outside the house,

John was cursing and yelling,

To be let in, or else…

"Oi Sherlock! Let me in, I'm freezing my arse off!" even half frozen to death, John couldn't help but spot the scandalised looks of his neighbours, including, dammit, hot Rachel in 220 across the street.

He also couldn't help but not give a damn.

Sherlock leaned outside the window, as he had done many times before in the past twenty minutes, to yell "Not until you tell my where the matches are. I need a cigarette!"

John groaned and continued his pacing, trying to keep, in some small way, warm, "but you're doing so well and- oh God are my hands blue? Sherlock! Let me in before I die of frostbite."

Sherlock, who had disappeared once more, paused in his search of the house I order to yell "Stop being so dramatic, John!"

John couldn't believe this "Oh I'm dramatic?! Really?! Says the prima donna who locked me out for a bloody cigarette!"

"Shut up! We are trying to enjoy Christmas with our families!" A voice from the neighbouring flat piped up.

"Piss off!" John and Sherlock replied in unison.

John huffed, a puff of mist rising from his frozen lips. "For God's sake Sherlock! Let. Me. In."

"Not until you return every last match." Sherlock called, crossing his arms petulantly.

It was only when John began to pull out each match, one by one, and lit them, that things began to escalate.

"Oh for Christ's sake" a female voice called from a van parked on the street as a burly women, quite clearly an agent of Mycroft's, burst out the door, stormed over to 221B and began to pick the lock.

John was inside in three minutes flat.

"Thanks" John said grinning "here" he tossed her the remaining matches he'd had hidden in his pocket the entire time "Happy Christmas."

The woman looked disgruntled and awkward before turning to leave.

"Hey!" John called her back "if you aren't doing anything, besides, y'know, surveilling us, maybe you could come in-"

"Nope!" Sherlock interrupted, slamming the door in her face.

God she hated Holmes duty.


End file.
